


Magical Supply Run

by Otaku_Band_Geek



Series: RVB Medieval AU [2]
Category: Red vs. Blue
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Medieval, Ambush, Attempt at Humor, Fantasy, Fighting, Getting Together, Hurt Grif, King Sarge, Knight Donut, Knight Grif, M/M, Magic, Protective Grif, Sharing a Bed, Sorcerer Simmons
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-14
Updated: 2020-06-14
Packaged: 2021-03-03 23:35:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,107
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24713956
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Otaku_Band_Geek/pseuds/Otaku_Band_Geek
Summary: Simmons and Grif embark on a journey to the town of Blood Gulch to retrieve some magical items. They just might come back to Red Kingdom with more than what they bargained for.
Relationships: Dexter Grif/Dick Simmons
Series: RVB Medieval AU [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1785850
Comments: 6
Kudos: 21





	Magical Supply Run

**Author's Note:**

> The violence in this fic is just minor, but I did try to go into detail with it.  
> If you notice any mistakes please tell me, and sorry if the characters are OOC. I've never written them before, but please enjoy the story!

Simmons runs through the corridor, picking up the front of his maroon robe, hoping to not trip on it... _again_. He clutches his magical staff in his right hand as he pushes the door open to the throne room. “You called for me, sir?” He walks up to the king, bowing a bit before looking up at Sarge.

Sarge, the ruler of the Red Kingdom, glares down at the sorcerer from atop his golden throne, “Well, of course I did! We have a problem, Simmons!”

Said man straightens up his posture, frowning slightly, “Don’t worry, sir. I have told Grif multiple times to stop eating all of the army’s rations. If you want me to start taking drastic measures, I will immediately.” 

“I will definitely not allow you to do that. If anything is going to happen to Grif, it will be by my hand.” Sarge replies, patting his trusty crossbow by his side. “But that’s not why I called you here. I am currently out of my magical blastin’ arrows!” He emphasizes by throwing his arms in the air. “I need you to make me more, in case those pesky blues start attacking the castle!”

“Right! I’m on it, sir!” Simmons says, giving Sarge a respectful bow. He then turns around quickly, and walks out of the throne room, a mission set into his mind. 

“Kissass.” One of the guards grumbles from his position outside of the door causing Simmons to turn his head towards him.

The sorcerer walks up to the knight, glaring at him, “Shut up, Grif! I don’t have-”

“Hello, boys!” Another knight, Donut, happily yells, walking up to the two. He takes off his helmet, and shakes off some of the sweat in his hair. Placing his hand on his hip he smiles at Simmons. “So, how did your meeting with Sarge go?”

Simmons opens his mouth to reply, but movement out of the corner of his eye turns his attention to Grif. The knight was reaching up to take off his helmet, his long dark hair falling out of the metal head piece. Simmons swears that time slows down as he watches Grif run his fingers through his hair. Noticing that he’s staring, the sorcerer clears his throat, a warm heat flooding across his cheeks, as he turns back to Donut, “Um… It went fine. He just needs some new arrows...” He trails off.

Donut’s sly grin towards Simmons told the sorcerer that he knew he was staring at Grif. “You should just tell him already, Simmons.” The knight whispers to him, gesturing to the now sleeping Grif. _How does he sleep standing up?!_

Simmons turns his gaze upon the napping knight for a solid second, before rushing past Donut, “I have no idea what you are talking about!” He yells over his shoulder, heart clenching at the thought of _what if._

“I really need to think of a way to get them together.” Donut huffs and puts his helmet back on.

“Get who together?” Grif asks, having been woken up from Simmons’ rushed footsteps and yells. 

“Oh, no one.” Donut just replies, taking over Grif’s guard duty. “You know, Grif, I think now would be the best time to tell Simmons how you feel.”

Grif yawns and throws his helmet back on, “Yeah, nope.” He then walks off towards the kitchen, leaving Donut all by himself.

“At least I tried…” The happy man sighs.

\----------------------

“Magma squirrel fur, magma squirrel fur…” Simmons searches around his room for the ingredients of the scatter arrows for Sarge. “I have everything, but… Oh yeah, I used all of it earlier this week for the flaming enchantment.” He sorcerer huffs, falling back into a chair feeling defeated.

You see, one of Simmons' many jobs around the castle was being the royal sorcerer, which means that he had to create potions, enchant weapons, cast powerful protection spells over the castle, and many other magical things. In his line of work, forgetting to stock up on important ingredients for certain mixtures always slips him mind, and sometimes, especially at a time like this, he really hates having so many responsibilities. 

“Now I’m going to have to go to the town Blood Gulch and see if I can buy some more. Should take a day there and a day back.” Simmons mumbles to himself, standing up to rummage around the pouches on his belt for some money. “I should have plenty, and just enough to stay at the town’s inn.” He turns to grab his magical staff just as the door to his room flies open. 

“Good. You’re here.” Grif storms inside. “I need you to explain to me why there is a protection spell on the food cabinets in the kitchen!” The knight says angrily, glaring at his friend.

Simmons rolls his eyes and pushes past the other to step out into the hallway, “Because you kept on eating everything, fatass. Trust me, it’s for your own good.” He turns to face the knight, arms crossing over his chest, “Sarge would eventually put an arrow through your skull, so you should be thanking me.”

“Thanking you for what? Ending the happiness in my life?” Grif huffs, “I’d rather have Sarge shoot me over never getting to eat the freshly baked bread again." The knight frowns, clutching his eyes shut. He turn to look back at Simmons and frowns, "And where the hell do you think you’re going?” The knight stomps after Simmons, who was already out of the castle. “I am not done having this argument with you, asshole.”

The sorcerer abruptly turns around, “We are done, and I have to head to Blood Gulch to get more ingredients for a spell. Are you coming or not?” He stands there, waiting for the other’s response.

“Of course I’m coming,” Grif replies without hesitation, causing Simmons’ heart to stop beating, “Only because I don’t want to be stuck here with Donut’s matchmaking or the king’s constant threats.” And it quickly continues back to its normal beat. 

The red head nods, and turns to start walking out of the castle, “Fine, but don’t start to annoy me when you need to take a break, or that your feet start to hurt.”

“Wait, are you telling me that we aren’t traveling with horses?” Grif frowns. “Screw you, Simmons. I thought we were friends.” He whines, dropping his shoulders as he sluggishly follows the other man out of the castle.

“You’ll be fine. Now, stop being a baby and pick up the pace, we don’t have all day.” The sorcerer glances behind himself at the knight, secretly smiling at the adventure waiting for the two.

\-----------------------

The trip to the town of Blood Gulch was probably Grif’s worst nightmare. Add multiple hills with hardly any stops to rest, no snacks, and Simmons’ constant nagging, almost had the knight grab his axe from its holder on his back and take a swing at his head. But the two eventually made it to their destination.

“So, what we are looking for is the fur of a magma squirrel. It’s best described as black strands of hair that glow a bright red, and they are warm to the touch. We really shouldn’t have a hard time finding any. Blood Gulch is known for its volcano, and the fiery creatures that live there.” Simmons tells the other, but Grif was hardly paying attention. The smell of food coming from the inn was making his stomach growl loudly.

“Uh, yeah sure. You mean you’ll have no trouble finding it. I’ll see you at the inn. Bye!” The knight yells before following his nose towards the heavenly smell of sweet, delicious food.

Simmons’ eyes widen as he watches his partner take off. “Why am I cursed with these feelings for an idiot?” He grumbles to himself as he walks around the town’s market for the needed ingredient. 

Once Grif gets into the inn, he’s sure his stomach is already digesting itself, so he takes the closest seat to the door and orders almost everything that his small amount of money could buy.

By the time Simmons walks in, with a jar of the squirrel fur in his hands, Grif is passed out on the table, a turkey leg in one hand and a pint of beer in the other. The sorcerer walks over to the knight’s table and orders a small meal for himself. When the red head is finished, he walks over to one of the inn maids and asks for an available room for two people.

“I’m sorry, dear, but we only have one room with a single bed.” She tells him, cleaning one of the cups.

Simmons frowns at the thought of sharing a bed or sleeping on the floor, but it’s better than sleeping outside with no protection, “I’ll take it.” He says, quickly handing over the money. The inn maid gives him the key, and then he’s off to go wake up Grif. “Come on, fatass. I bought us a room.”

Grif looks up at him with a yawn, “Carry me, Simmons.” He says, making grabby hands at the red head.

The sorcerer blushes and shakes his head, “No way. I think I’d break my arms if I did.” He huffs, slapping the other man’s hands out of his face.

“Meanie.” Grif replies, but it has no hurtful tone to it. The knight then stands up, brushes the crumbs off his armor, causing Simmons to roll his eyes, and gestures to the sorcerer to lead the way to their room.

Simmons nods and begins to head upstairs to where the inn’s rooms were located. “Just so you know, the only room they had left was one with a single bed.” He explains to Grif, unlocking the door with the key.

“I call dibs!” Grif yells, rushing past Simmons and jumping onto the rather small bed, Simmons points out to himself. The sorcerer steps inside, locking the door behind him, and glares at the knight.

“I should be the one with the bed. I paid for it.” He grumbles, but is only answered by Grif’s immediate snoring. Sighing to himself, Simmons takes the time to look around at the room.

The bed was up against the wall in the middle of the room. A large fireplace was to the right of it, unlit but with a feel pieces of woods stacked neatly in the middle. Simmons takes a few seconds to light the wood with some of his fire magic. On the left side of the room sat a large metal tub and a curtain for privacy, which Simmons quickly decided that he was nasty and sweaty and that he was going to take a bath. He sets a pot of water over the fireplace to heat up and sits on the edge of the bed, taking this time to look at the man sleeping in the bed.

He didn’t mean too, of course, but he couldn’t help himself. Simmons had known Grif for a very long time. Since he joined the knights, actually. The two didn’t really like each other a first, but they grew to become great friends, and they still are today. _If only I had the courage to change that._ When you are Simmons and you spend time with your best friend, practically all the time, you would be destined to eventually fall in love with him. Or as the sorcerer himself liked to call it, “Being cursed to love someone who doesn’t love you back.”

The sound of the water bubbling in the pot brings Simmons out of his thoughts. He quickly stands, grabs the water and pours it into the tub. He pulls the curtain around the tub, to block his view from Grif, and for privacy, before shedding his maroon robe. He gets into the steaming water, a groan at the warmth soaking into his aching muscles leaving his lips. He lets his eyes slip shut as he allows the water to envelope his shoulders down to his feet.

It must have been a while before Simmons opens his eyes again due to the commotion coming from the other side of the curtain. “You thought to take a bath, and you didn’t ask me to join you. Not cool, man.” The sorcerer blushes at Grif’s words.

“What? Why would-” Grif suddenly pokes his head in through the curtain causing Simmons to yelp. “What the fuck, Grif! Privacy please!” He flushes a bright red, that could definitely rival his maroon robe, and huddles his body up into a ball to try and cover up.

Grif moves his head back with a loud laugh, “Whatever, dude. As soon as you’re done, though, it’s my turn.”

The sound of armor hitting the floor catches Simmons’ attention, and he can hear Grif fill the pot back up with water to put over the fire again. At that, the red haired sorcerer finishes washing himself, and gets out of the tub. He dries himself off with the provided towel and steps into his robe again before pushing the curtain back. He quickly stops in his tracks when he sees the knight’s scarred back facing him.

The scars on Grif’s back were all but a mystery to Simmons. He knew how the knight got each and every one of the discolored patches of skin on his body, and to the sorcerer they weren’t flaws or imperfections. They were what made Grif who he was, and Simmons couldn’t ask for him any other way. Simmons wanted to so badly run his fingers over the pale skin, and ask Grif all of the stories on how he got them, just so that he could remember all of the crazy times they spent together.

“I can feel you staring holes into my back.” Grif says, turning his head slightly to smile back at Simmons.

The other man swiftly adverts his gaze to the floor, “No I wasn’t.” He clears his throat, wringing his hands nervously at being caught.

“Whatever. I’m just ready to take this bath. My feet are killing me from all that walking today.” The knight grumbles, walking past Simmons to pour the hot water into the tub. Grif finishes getting undressed, causing the sorcerer to turn his head out of embarrassment, and shuts the curtain.

Simmons sighs, trying to collect his bearings. Once he calmed down a bit, he lays down in the bed and curls up with the blankets wrapped around himself. He quickly slips into a comforting sleep, and doesn’t even mind when the bed shifts behind him, and warmth surrounds him from the back.

\--------------------

“Grif! Wake up! We don’t have time to sleep in all day.” The crack in Simmon’s voice suddenly pulls the knight out of his peaceful slumber. He blinks, trying to get the blurry vision out of his eyes.

“Five more minutes, Cinnamon.” Grif mumbles as he wraps his arms tighter around the mass of warmth and lanky limbs beside him. He smiles as he practically feels the flush throughout Simmons’ body warm up the bed more.

Simmons quickly pushes himself out of bed, and stands up. “I’m serious, asshole! We need to head back to Red Kingdom as soon as possible so that I can make those arrows for our king.”

“Alright. Alright, kissass. I’m up.” Grif huffs. He throws the blankets off of himself, and starts putting his armor back on.

“I’ll be downstairs with breakfast. Don’t keep me waiting.” Simmons says, and then he’s gone.

Grif sighs and hurries up with getting dressed, not wanting to wait for the delicious thought of food.

He makes his way down to the inn, finds where his friend had sat down, and sits by him. The two make small talk over their wait and the meal, and soon enough they are packing up all of their things and are headed back to the Red Kingdom. 

About three-quarters of the way there, Grif has to stop to rest for a bit.

“Come on, Simmons. My feet are literally killing me.” The knight moans out as he sits down on a rock to rest the aches.

The sorcerer rolls his eyes and sits his things down beside his partner. “I’m going to go look for berries or some kind of snack while we rest.” The red headed man replies as he walks into the forest behind Grif.

Grif smiles at the thought of food while he rubs his foot through the material of his boot. It felt good to finally take a break after walking so long. Since it was mainly uphill on the way to Blood Gulch, the downhill parts on the way back made the knight not as whiny as before, and for the sake of giving Simmons some peace and quiet, because he actually does care about his friend, surprise, surprise. 

After a while of relaxing and being lost in thought, the sound of a scream cut through Grif’s tired mindset. “That sounded like Simmons!” He springs up off of the rock, axe already drawn, and runs into the forest towards the sound. “Simmons! Simmons, where are you!?” He yells, clutching the hilt of the axe so tightly his fingers were turning numb. Soon enough, a flash of maroon catches his eye and he sees Simmons running towards him. “There you are! What the fuck is happening?”

“Bandits, Grif! I tried to hold them off but there were too many.” The sorcerer says, desperately trying to catch is breath.

“Go back to the rock and grab your staff. Then we can show these losers not to mess with us.” The knight says. Simmons smiles slightly, nodding his head as he runs off to grab his magical weapon. Grif watches him leave and then turns his attention to the sound of twigs snapping in the distance. “Show yourself, cowards.” He growls, watching for any type of movement. 

“Well, well, well. What do we have here. A royal knight? How wonderful. I bet you hold millions worth of money on you.” A woman steps out of the shadows, the leader of the bandits, Grif assumes. “Or, maybe we could hold you hostage and get even more money from your king, hmm?” She grins smugly.

“Actually, I spend all my money on food, and the king would probably love to see me dead, but I would love to fight you for trying to attack the one that’s most dear to me.” Grif snarls at her, taking a step closer to try being intimidating. 

She just laughs, “And what are you going to do, crush me to death? Get’em, boys.”

And before Grif knows it, he’s surrounded by all different types of bandits, blood lust in their eyes and ready to take the knight’s life. Grif grits his teeth and starts rushing in at full power, slashing his axe at anything that comes close enough. He feels tiny slices of pain shot all across his body every once in a while, the warmth of blood sliding down his arms and legs pushes him to fight harder. _Fuck, where’s Simmons?_ A sudden blast of heat is radiated from the knight’s left side, and he turns his head to see Simmons in his fighting pose, gem on the end of his staff glowing a bright red. That’s when the real power comes out in Grif. Fighting alongside his best friend spikes the adrenaline inside him, and before they both know it, all of their enemies are on the ground.

“We did it, Grif! Sorry I was late.” Simmons frowns at his partner.

Grif laughs, “It’s fine. I’m just glad you showed up when you did. Now that everyone’s down, let’s head back.” He turns to look at Simmons head on when a flash a black shots out from behind a tree. “Lookout!” He yells, pushing the sorcerer aside. Grif swings down his axe, decapitating the bandit’s leader before she could skewer Simmons. Grif takes in a deep breath, and suddenly a sharp pain sky-rockets up his abdomen. He slowly turns around to face Simmons, burning hot pain licking at his entire body. 

Simmons eyes are blown wide in fear, his heart rate blasting up. “Grif… I… You…” 

Grif then takes the time to look down, wondering where such a pain was coming from. And there it is, a sword sticking into the left side of his body. He watches as blood pools around the wound, seeping onto the sword and dripping onto his boots and the grass below. “Dammit, that hurts…” He mumbles, grabbing the weapon by it’s hilt and pulling it out of his body. Blood splatters the nearby trees and Grif bites his lip hard to keep from crying out in pain. He falls to his knees, clutching the wound to keep from bleeding out.

Simmons quickly follows suit, using his hands to help put pressure on the cut. “You need to lay down, Grif. Try to keep the wound above your heart.” He gasps out, trying not to cry. If they didn’t do something quick, the knight was going to die. 

“I think… I think that there are some bandages back with… Back with our stuff.” Grif manages to get out, laying down on his back like Simmons said.

“We don’t have enough time for that!” Simmons squeaks. _Come on. Think of something, Simmons! Think! If you don’t your best friend is going to die, and it’s all because of you...! Okay, what do we have with us? Nothing but the sword, Grif's axe, and my staff which I use for fire magic… Fire magic… Fire could seal up the wound!_ “Ah-ha! I’ve got it! This is going to hurt really bad, Grif, but it will stop the bleeding!” Simmons yells, looking down at the knight’s pale face.

“Just do it. I don’t care.” Grif mumbles, his eyes looking droopy.

Simmons quickly pulls Grif’s hands away from the wound and replaces them with his own. The feeling of blood on his hand makes a few tears fall down, but the magic of his hands over takes that thought. The sorcerer takes in a deep breath, his hands glowing red as fire cauterizes the wound. Simmons bites his lip at the yell of pain escapes Grif’s lips, but he keeps his hands there, knowing that it will save him.

As soon as fire appeared, it was gone. Just like that. Simmons lifts his hands to see the wound completely sealed off and the crispy skin of his best friend. “You did it.” He looks at Grif, but the knight has passed out, due to the pain, Simmons hopes. “Rest, Grif… You deserve it.” The sorcerer lays down next to him, and rests his teary eyes. 

\------------------------

When Grif wakes up, the pain in his abdomen makes it hard to sit up, but he eventually manages. A bucket of water and some food is set at his side and he doesn’t hesitate to dig in.

“Good. You’re awake. You scared me half to death, Grif!” Simmons walks over to him and sits down.

“How long was I out?” The knight asks, finishing up his food.

“Not too long. You slept for the rest of the day after we got attacked, and then the whole day today. The sun is about to set.” The sorcerer replies.

Grif nods slowly, looking down at the wound. _It doesn’t look too bad. Simmons must have been taking care of me this whole time._

The two sat in silence for a bit, the sounds of nature surrounding them. “Hey, Grif?” Simmons’ voice cuts through the air, causing the knight to look over at him. “Why did you take that sword for me?” 

Grif sighs, “Is it really not that obvious, jackass? I’m in love with you, okay, Simmons? I don’t know what I’d do if I were to lose you, so I jumped in front of the sword for you.” The knight looks right into Simmons’ eyes, the sorcerer’s breath hitching as he takes in all the words. 

Before he knows it, Simmons is lurching forward and capturing Grif’s lips into a kiss. A kiss of gratitude, a kiss of longing, and a kiss of love. The knight can’t stop himself from wrapping his arms around the sorcerer and bringing him even closer. Kissing Simmons, Grif realizes, is like taking a breath of fresh air when his lungs hadn’t done so in many years. Simmons made him do crazy things, he realized, too, and if almost getting stabbed to death resulted in Simmons kissing him again, that would be a risk Grif would always want to take.

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you guys enjoyed this as much as I enjoyed writing it! A Tuckington fic, and maybe a Docnut fic, will be written in the future! So keep a look out!  
> Also, if you guys wanted me to post an extra story in this series on how I see each character, like how Simmons is a sorcerer who uses fire magic and Grif is a knight who wields an axe, just let me know so that I can clarify everything. I'm even thinking of making a multiple chapter fic in this universe but its in a different timeline, but we will just have to see :)


End file.
